


No Whispered Promises

by sweetestel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Mutually Unrequited, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetestel/pseuds/sweetestel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Season 3 Spoilers) Morgana has always had glimpses of the things to come, dreams that nothing can stop. The dreams leave her with the knowledge of what the future holds, the feeling that she can’t let it be, the illusion she can change it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Whispered Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's merlin_santa 2010 gift exchange.  
> Special thanks to my awesome beta-reader [rufflefeather](http://rufflefeather.livejournal.com) who helped me make this fic better than it could ever have been!

Morgana’s eyes snap open, breath frantic, nails digging into the mattress. She veers up in bed, lighting all the candles in the room with barely a thought. She doesn’t control much of her magic but fire is something she has come to master.   
The Queen is sitting in Her bed, Her crown resting where She had put it earlier, Her room empty of any stranger’s presence. She breathes out; She is safe. Her fingers run along the bracelet at Her wrist as She think of what Morgause had said about prophecies. 

She casts the idea aside. There is no way what She saw in the dream could still be happening. She is Camelot’s Queen. 

  
- 

  
In the morning, Gwen shows her how little she is deserving of her trust and friendship. Morgana can’t let it be. There won’t be any other Queen. 

  
-

  
His lips caress the skin of her neck, kissing, sucking small bruises along the veins. She can feel his palm drawing slow patterns on her stomach, his body hot against hers. Her fingers curl around his short hair and she tugs, pulls him into a kiss. The rest of it is only pale skin against pale skin, shadows and candlelight, a blur of moans and breaths; she sees his eyes roll in pleasure behind his closed eyelids. 

Morgana’s eyes snap open. 

  
-

  
She hugs her legs close, trying to calm down the frantic beating in her chest. She casts a look at the bracelet discarded on the cave’s ground and wonders why her magic plays with her mind like this. Closing her eyes for a second, hoping to put her mind at rest, she shudders when the images of her dreams come back.    
She gasps and disgust rises in her throat. Her head is full of too many questions and no one is there to answer. 

Her hand reaches for Morgause’s, who is lying beside her.    
“Sister, you have to wake up,” she whispers.

For the first time in as long as she can remember, Morgana wants to cry.

  
-

  
His moves are shallow, hips softly rocking while he kisses her neck. She’s come to notice how much he seems to enjoy this, softly caressing the skin with his lips, slowly tracing curves on her neck with his tongue, blowing hot air that makes her shiver and smiling against the skin when she trembles. She bites her lips, digs her head back into the pillow, drives her nails over his back and fights how much she can enjoy it, too. 

He never moans, never begs, never whispers promises in her ear, never asks for things to be different, to start it all over again and she never holds him so close it feels they could get under each other’s skin– no, this, this never happens.    
She can’t show him how much she cares, how much she needs it, the taste of his skin on her tongue, the smell of his body filling her nostrils and the slow, delicious ecstasy taking advantage of her. This is wrong, so wrong.    
“Look at me,” she whispers as he once again hides his face in the curve of her neck.   
“Merlin, look at me,” and she’s ready to beg him again and again but she doesn’t need to, as he raises his head and looks at her. Resting his brow against hers, he stares right in her eyes, their lips never quite touching, leaving their mouths open, sharing the same breaths. 

She doesn’t realize she is closing her eyes when she feels the pleasure boiling inside her until he whispers:   
“Look at me.”

When she does, golden eyes are staring into hers. 

  
-

  
When she wakes up, Morgause is gone. The stretch of floor beside her is empty; Morgana feels something knot in her stomach. She knows they have to move, not lingering anywhere long enough to be found. Nowhere is safe. But she has grown tired and doesn’t control her magic enough not to suffer from the consequences of using so much power to transport them both from one place to another. 

She scrambles to her feet and runs towards the entry of the cave when she sees Morgause standing outside, staring at her surroundings.    
“Sister?” she asks and she catches the sight of a red cape between the trees. There’s a beat.    
Morgause turns around, eyes wide, and yells at her:   
“Run!”

So she does. She runs until she doesn’t know where she is or how far she has gone, she runs until she can’t hear anyone, see any sign of a red cape. But then there it is – red – a neckerchief. It is Merlin, standing right in front of her. She gasps and steps back. How did he even find her?    
She can’t see him, not here, not now, not before everything else- she just can’t. 

  
He stares at her, heels planted into the ground, looking taller than she’s ever seen him– but she catches it, the small tremor in his arm, the way he clenches his fists to stop his fingers from shaking, his lips parted but unable to say a word, unable to decide what he’s supposed to do. So she decides for him. 

“Go away! Run, Merlin!” she threatens and she can feel her magic roaring inside of her body when she does. It’s a heat swirling, boiling in her chest faster and faster each time he takes a breath, each time she sees his eyelashes flicker, his lower lip wobble, his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. He shakes his head with a light in his eyes that looks like pity. 

“No? Then you’d better fight!”   
The power rises from somewhere deep in her stomach, hot, turning and then suddenly it’s out and sending a wave of magic toward Merlin. He startles, looking stunned at what she’s just done. And that is exactly what she wants, she wants him surprised, she wants him scared, wants him to hate her, just hate her and stop always trying to protect her, trying to lo-   
She swallows the pain and smiles. 

“I’ve been learning my lessons well.   
\- Morgana-   
\- Aren’t you going to fight back?”

He swallows noticeably and for a second her eyes are fixed on his throat– no.    
“You-   
\- I said aren’t you going to fight back?” she screams and they both feel the earth shake when she does.

“I’m not armed-   
\- Stop this.   
\- I don’t know what you’re talking about-   
\- Stop it!” she yells and this time he feels the power of her anger slam into him. 

He stumbles and takes two steps back before regaining his balance. He knows a simple man couldn’t have remained standing like he did. And she knows it, too.

“How can you have done this to me? How can you stand by their side after all the things they did to our kind?   
\- You don’t understand-   
\- Fight back!” she screams and a ball of fire comes out of thin air in front of her and hurtles toward him before she fully realizes what is happening. He ducks just in time and stumbles once more. 

She raises her hand, ready to hit him again. She’s taken aback when she sees him raise his, his arm steady, his face determined. It suddenly dawns on her that when ordering him to fight back, she never really expected him to. It is her hand that is shaking this time. 

“Don’t make me do this,” his voice soft, almost pleading.

She looks at the palm pointed at her, the long fingers spread towards her.    
She looks at his eyes, blue with shades of gold.    
She takes one breath, calls for the power within her and closes her eyes. 

  
-

  
Morgana’s eyes snap open in time to see Morgause’s eyelids flicker to the edge of awareness.   
“Sister?” she asks, voice barely audible.    
“We have to move.”

  
-

  
Red capes move around the cave and the men enter cautiously. It’s empty. Of course it is. But he knows they’ve been there, he can feel it and each time he knows they are getting closer. Something silver on the ground catches his eye and he moves closer. Kneeling, he takes the bracelet in his hand, fingers running over the runes.

“Merlin?” Gwaine calls. “They’re gone.”

He turns his head towards him and nods.   
“Let’s go.”


End file.
